


30 Day NSFW Challenge - fics

by RosieTheRo



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRo/pseuds/RosieTheRo
Summary: Written prompts from the 30 Day NSFW Challenge I'm doing over on tumblr. Most days will be art, but the few fics I do will be posted here. Tags will be updated with each new fic added. Content and warnings given before each fic.





	1. Day 3 - First Time (SuFin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content/warnings: NSFW, frottage, historical references, Sve dealing with some pretty vague but intense anxiety stuff, purple prose-ish and internal musings

“Berwald?”

He almost can’t believe it. That voice, speaking his name so softly, different than he’d always imagined but so much better in real life.

Berwald’s chest feels tight.

“Berwald, look at me?”

He looks, and panic grips his chest, seeing Tino watching him with furrowed brows.

He should be ecstatic, it’s what he’s wanted for years, centuries even; Tino in his arms, in his bed, willing and happy, but – 

But _god_ he’s waited so long, all those romantic confessions trapped in his chest, all those “I love you’s” dying on his tongue before he could gather the courage to speak them, too in awe of this wonderful, beautiful, powerful, compassionate man to find his voice, to tell him just how much he admires him.

And it took that wonderful, beautiful, powerful, compassionate man screaming at him in red-faced anger for him to find his courage. He’d come to help, bringing supplies and soldiers, because he wanted what Tino wanted, he wanted him to be free, to be himself, not Danish nor Swedish nor Russian, but just _him_ , his amazing self, because Berwald loves _him_ so much he just wants him to by happy.

He could have said all that. He could have, but he didn’t, because his heart fluttered in his chest like a moth and his courage withered, and when Tino asked, “What are you doing here?” all he could do was grunt.

And when Tino cornered him in an empty barracks, fists shaking and face flushed, and screamed in his face, “Just tell me what you want from me already!” he could do little more than stare back at him.

_I want you, I want to hold you tight and comfort you when you cry, I want to taste your morning breath when I kiss you awake, I want raise children with you, I want to have petty domestic spats over stupid inconsequential things, I want to love you until you’re singing with pleasure, I want you to be happy even if that means I’m not there._

All of that he wanted to say, and he could only stare.

He couldn’t blame Tino for being angry. He couldn’t blame him for telling him to get off his soil and go back home. He couldn’t blame him for storming off.

It was his own fault; he should have said something long ago.

It took him all night to write the letter, hands shaking as he tried desperately to find the words, scrapping piece after piece of paper as his watch ticked away the time. The end result was far from perfect, but by then it was morning, and Tino wanted him gone by then. So, he left. The last thing he did was place the letter among Tino’s mail, and hoped it would explain everything.

He didn’t expect a response. He wasn’t even sure he wanted one. But, he got one anyway.

“Let’s start over, okay? Come to Helsinki when the war’s done.”

He went, and they talked, over strong coffee and salty candies, and Berwald forced the words from his mouth like he was choking, but Tino was patient. Tino gave him time to speak, gave him reassuring smiles and offered him a pen and paper, asked if writing would be easier. It wasn’t, but Berwald appreciated the gesture so much.

And at the end of it, Tino said he wanted to meet again.

And a couple years later, Tino looked up at him with pink cheeks and a shy smile and asked, “So, do you wanna call our next meeting a date?”

And damn his voice, it stuck again, and all Berwald could do was mumble. But, at least, he managed to nod this time.

It was progress. They were making progress.

But old habits can be so, _so_ hard to break.

“Berwald?”

His voice feels like thorns in his throat, unshakable no matter how hard he coughs or swallows, and Tino has him paralyzed under that troubled, concerned gaze.

He knows he must look terrifying. His glasses are gone, he has to squint, and he’s so tense his jaw is held tightly shut. He must look so frightening, what if Tino doesn’t even want to be here, what if he just said “yes” because he was afraid of saying no – 

Tino cupped his face in both hands and looks him square in the eye. Berwald swears his heart stops for a second.

“Berwald, remember what you promised?” he asked, softly.

The promise to talk, to communicate, to not freeze up and stay silent and just _hope_ Tino would get the message.

_I know, I know, I’m trying, but it’s so hard, I’m so scared of ruining this, of saying the wrong thing, I want this to be perfect, you deserve it to be perfect –_

“I’m holding myself to that same promise. If anything goes wrong, I _swear_ I will tell you.”

He tilts Berwald’s head forward, presses their foreheads together, and Berwald goes red up to his ears.

“I’m not afraid, Berwald. I know who you are now, what you really want, and I want that too. We can make this work, I’m sure of it.”

He leans back a bit, eyes shining and mouth curled in a small, encouraging smile. “It’s _okay_ if something goes wrong. So, we stop, we figure it out, and then maybe we keep going or try another time. If we’re both open, then that’s the worst that’ll happen. And it’s not the end, not by a long shot.”

Perceptive.

That’s something else this wonderful, beautiful, powerful, compassionate man is.

Even if he lived with Berwald for centuries and could never place his mood.

But, then again, Berwald was the one trying as hard as he could to hide his moods.

It wasn’t Tino’s fault.

“Think I can do that,” he mumbles, realizes it’s the first thing he said since they climbed into bed.

Tino laughs softly and kisses his brow. “I know you can.”

 _I can be open,_ Berwald tells himself, taking a deep breath. _I can, for you._

“What–” he mumbles, chokes on his words, and starts again. “What d’ya wanna do?”

It’s the best place to start, he figures.

“I was hoping you’d have an idea.” Tino’s face turns red, and he laughs. “Oh gosh, wow…”

_I just want to be with you. I just want to touch you._

Tino doesn't say anything.

_I’m doing it again, aren’t I?_

He’s determined he’s going to break this habit, and he’s going to start tonight.

“Wanna touch ya,” he says, leans his face into Tino’s neck. Maybe it’ll be easier if he doesn’t have to look him in the eye. 

Tino gasps, soft and short, and Berwald freezes, wonders if it’s too much, if he moved too quickly.

Tino’s hands slide up his biceps to his shoulders. “Go on?”

Gentle encouragement. Keep talking, it’s okay, I want to hear what you have to say.

Berwald swallows, and presses his nose against the juncture between Tino’s neck and shoulder. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” he admits, brave and bashful. “Don’t care how.”

“Okay.” Tino shifts on the bed. “Okay. How about this then?”

He sits up on his knees and scoots forward, and Berwald suddenly realizes he’s sitting in his lap, thighs around his waist and face bright red, his smile shy and excited and his fingers curled in the fabric of Berwald’s shirt.

“Oh.”

“Is this okay?”

Berwald nods. “Very okay.”

Tino laughs at that, and Berwald thinks he could die happy.

Tino’s already shirtless. It’s what left him wordless to begin with (sympathy for his scars, pride in how quickly they’ve been healing, relief at the healthy layer of fat on his belly when he’d been so thin and fragile-looking the last time Berwald had seen him). His hands move to his pants, and he glances back up.

“So, are you just gonna keep your clothes on or…?”

His smile is playful, and Berwald’s face feels warm. Clumsy hands reach for his shirt buttons and he fumbles, somehow getting them undone while keeping his eyes firmly on the waistband of Tino’s jeans.

Tino pauses only to push his shirt off his shoulders for him, his skin rough with callouses but his touch gentle and he traces his fingers across Berwald’s collar bone, resting them against his chest. Berwald wonders if he can feel how hard his heart is beating. His eyes zero in on Tino’s fly, the button undone and the zipper down, the glimpse of his white underwear the most enticing thing Berwald has ever seen.

(He’s seen Tino naked before, in the sauna, but that was different. A sauna is not a bedroom. Nakedness in a sauna is familiar, casual. Nakedness in the bedroom has so much more weight to it.)

Tino’s hands are suddenly at his waistband, barely touching his belt.

“Can I?”

Berwald nods so quickly he’s amazed he doesn’t give himself whiplash.

They kiss as Tino opens his belt, chaste and slow, and Berwald feels light headed. 

“Breathe, Ber,” Tino whispers against his lips.

Ah. That would explain it.

He takes a deep breath, and then his belt is unbuckled and his fly is open, and Tino’s hands hover in the space between them.

“So, uhm, should we –”

Berwald rarely acts on impulse. The last time he did that, he called Tino his “wife” and only made the situation worse. But, things are going so well so far; maybe this will work out better.

He kisses Tino, hard, as hard as he’s always wanted, and his heart soars when Tino kisses back with a groan, parting his lips and letting Berwald plunder his mouth with his tongue. Tino’s hands are in his hair, gripping tight, nails scratching his scalp, and Berwald wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Their crotches press together, unintentionally, and Berwald can feel that Tino is getting hard inside his jeans.

But, he must make sure. He promised, after all.

He pulls away and catches his breath. Tino is watching him, eyes wide and dark, an eager tenseness in his limbs, like he wants to pounce back on Berwald right away.

“Okay?” Berwald asks gruffly.

Tino nods. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Tino practically shoves him against the headboard as he lunges on him, claiming Berwald’s mouth with a hungry growl, and Berwald lets him happily. Tino bites his lip. Berwald bites back. They both moan.

His hands wonder, over Tino’s shoulders, down his chest, up his sides and down his soft belly. They’re above his waist before long and Berwald, trying to focus with Tino devouring his mouth, slips his fingers into Tino’s underwear.

He expects the worst. He nearly thinks it’s happened, when Tino pulls back with a sharp gasp, until he pants, “ _Yes,_ ” against Berwald’s lips and kisses him again, shifting his hips to encourage his hand in further. 

Berwald curls his hand around him, feeling Tino’s cock hard against his palm, eager and willing, and he moans happily. It’s not enough to feel, he wants to see too, so he tears away from the kiss to look down as he pulls Tino free from his jeans, admires his flushed cock in the dim light of the bedroom. 

Beautiful, all of him.

“Here, lemme…” Tino mumbles against his neck, slipping his own hand down Berwald’s trim stomach and shoving it into his pants. Berwald grits his teeth and hisses, bucking his hips as Tino wraps his fingers around him, stroking him up and then down, before pushing down his waistband and letting his cock out.

“Woah,” he pants, looking down between them. “You’re pretty big…”

Berwald’s face burns and he makes a muffled noise in his throat.

“I’m hardly complaining,” Tino laughs breathily. “I’m just, uhm, kinda regretting not bringing lube along. Next time, huh?”

Berwald’s not sure what makes him more aroused; the idea that Tino wants to go _that_ far, or the confirmation that there’s going to be a “next time.”

“Next time,” he repeats, and leans forward to kiss Tino again.

He moves his hand. He starts gentle, slow, because his hands are dry (Tino was right, lube would have been a good idea), and nudges his thumb against the head of Tino’s cock.

“Ffffuck,” Tino hisses. “God, kiss me again.”

Berwald does. He kisses him hard and hungrily, nips and Tino’s lower lip, and welcomes him into his arms when Tino scoots closer until they’re pressed chest to chest. Berwald feels their cocks bump and slide together, and shivers when Tino moans.

“Hey, you’ve got bigger hands,” Tino pants between kisses. “Can you…?”

“ _Yes._ ”

It comes out much rougher than he means it to, but Tino doesn’t seem to care. He groans, kisses him greedily, and bucks his hips when Berwald wraps his hands around both their cocks.

It’s not perfect. It’s rough, it’s too dry, Berwald’s arm is at an uncomfortable angle between them, and Tino isn’t laid among a bed of rose petals and being smothered with gentle kisses with candlelight flickering around them. But, it _is_ perfect, because Tino is here, Tino is with him, in his arms, in his bed, moaning into his mouth and enjoying the hell out of this, nails leaving little red marks on Berwald’s, eager and willing.

Different than he'd always imagined, but _so_ much better in real life.

“Berwald, Ber, oh _fuck–!_ ”

Making Tino come feels amazing; he loves the short gasp of breath, the way his shoulders quiver and his nails dig deeper into his shoulders, the heavy moan as goes limp in his arms.

Berwald’s not far behind, especially not when Tino’s hand joins his, thumb pushing back his foreskin and rubbing the flushed head. He barely makes a sound when he comes, but he shudders allover, clings to Tino like a lifeline, and lets out a heavy, shaky breath when he goes lax.

They’ve wound up slouched against the head of the bed on a hap-hazard pile of pillows. Tino lays limp on top of him and Berwald couldn’t be happier, petting his soft hair with his clean hand and lazily kissing his forehead. Tino nuzzles his chest and hums. He sounds happy.

“Love ya.”

It slips out before he has a chance to stop it.

Tino doesn’t say anything for a second, and his chest tightens with panic all over again. _This is it, this is how I ruin everything, it’s too soon, it’s too much._

“I dunno if I’m ready to say ‘I love you, too’ just yet,” Tino mused quietly, lips brushing against his neck. “But… I do care about you a hell of a lot, and I’m really, _really_ glad we gave this another try.”

Tino pushes himself up on his arms. He’s smiling, tender and affectionate, as he brushes Berwald’s bangs out of his face. He kisses the bridge of his nose, and Berwald sinks into the bed with a relieved sigh.

“Is that okay?”

“Hm?”

“If I can’t say that yet?”

Berwald scoops him up in his arms and bumps his nose against his forehead. “‘Course it’s okay. Can’t make ya love me. Tried that, didn’t work.”

Tino snorts, slinging an arm over Berwald’s chest. “Yeah, you were pretty awkward about it. I’m still glad we started over, though. I like this a lot so far.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Ber?”

“Mm?”

“Can I use the shower.”

“Sure.”

“And, can I stay the night.”

“‘Course.”

“And, uhm, can I call you Ber?”

“Please do.”


	2. Day 8 - Skype Sex (AmeLietPol)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of many partially-written fics that it took a challenge/event for me to finally finish writing. 
> 
> Warnings/content: nsfw, slight exhibitionism, polyamory, bad attempts at dirty talk

Toris couldn't help but feel like he had forgotten something, but it was tough to focus on that with Feliks's hands yanking open his shirt buttons and his tongue squirming its way into his mouth. 

An impromptu visit to Toris's house for coffee and a chat had wound up with them heading for the bedroom and tugging each other's clothes off, as it did occasionally, but Toris had that faint nagging feeling that he had something else he needed to do. He ran over his schedule in his brain, as best as he could with Feliks nibbling at his neck and humping against his thigh, trying to remember if he'd gotten all his work done that day. With nothing coming to mind, he figured he was just worrying too much and metaphorically shrugged it off, falling onto the bed and on top of Feliks.

Then he heard a chiming noise from his laptop on the desk behind him and remembered with a guilty lurch.

"Oh, damn it," he mumbled, pushing himself up on his arms. "Sorry, I completely forgot, I made plans to talk with Alfred today."

Feliks snorted, apparently amused, and gave Toris a little smirk. "Go answer it, you dork."

Toris smiled apologetically and got off the bed, straightening his half-unbuttoned shirt as he leaned over the desk and answered the call.

Alfred's face popped up on the screen, split into a wide grin.

"Hey, hon!" he cheered with a wave. "How you doing?"

"Hi, ah, I'm alright," Toris said with an awkward laugh. "Listen, um, I'm sorry about this, but, well-"

Feliks abruptly leaned against him and slung an arm around his shoulder. "I accidentally crashed your Skype date, dude, sorry."

Alfred glanced between the two, noticing Feliks's smudged lipgloss and Toris's open shirt, and laughed.

"Well, don't let me interrupt your fun," he grinned.

Flustered, Toris chuckled. "I really am sorry. Maybe I can get some free time tomorrow and we can-"

"Hang on a sec," Feliks said abruptly, leaning in closer to Toris. "You know, he doesn't have to hang up," he murmured in quiet Polish. 

"What do you mean?" Toris asked, also in Polish., giving Feliks a quizzical look.

Feliks tilted his head to the laptop, cheeks turning pink. "I mean, what if we keep doing our thing and he, like, watches us?"

Toris's eyes widened, his face going warm. The thought of something like _that_ had never really occurred to him before, but, now that it was there in his head, he couldn't deny it was pretty appealing.

"I... I don't see why not."

"Everything alright?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, fine," Toris said quickly, switching back into English. "Hey, ah, Po and I, we were thinking... Maybe, you could stay and, uhm, watch?"

Alfred raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I mean, only if you want to,” Toris added. 

“And you guys would be okay with it?”

“Sure,” Feliks said, shrugging bashfully. “It sounds kinda fun, to be honest.”

Alfred licked his lips, looking thoughtful. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, let’s give it a shot.”

That answer made Toris much more excited than he expected it to.

“I guess I’ll bring you over to the bed, then,” he laughed awkwardly, picking up the laptop.

He ended up putting the laptop at the foot of the bed, with he and Feliks sitting up near the headboard.

“Sooo, here goes?” Feliks asked, a shy yet eager grin on his face.

Toris blew out a deep breath. “Here goes.”

He weaved a hand through Feliks’s hair and brought him back into their kiss, picking up almost seamlessly from before Alfred called. Feliks hummed against his lips as he tackled Toris’s remaining shirt buttons, pushing it off Toris’s shoulders once it was open. Toris tossed his shirt aside and deepened their kiss, pulling Feliks closer by the waist with a hungry noise.

“Damn…” Alfred mumbled from the laptop. Toris pulled away for a second to glance at him. 

“Is this okay?”

“This is _so_ okay, dude,” Alfred chuckled. “Like, maybe one tenth of me is crazy jealous right now, but the other ninety percent is way too turned on to care.”

Feliks snickered as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Chill, alright? You’ll get him back when I’m done with him.”

“What am I, a piece of gardening equipment?” Toris huffed.

“Nope, you’re a big, sexy cutie,” Feliks gushed, sitting himself in Toris’s lap and cupping his face in both hands, squishing his cheeks. “A big, sexy cutie with a big ol’ heart and a big ol’ thick dick.”

“Oh my god, it’s the best, isn’t it?!” Alfred chimed in eagerly.

Toris buried his face in Feliks’s shoulder, red all the way up to his ears. “ _Why_ do I let you two speak to each other?”

“You couldn’t stop us if you tried, babe,” Feliks laughed.

Toris peered up at him, a sly smirk curling his lip. “You’re enjoying this way more than I am, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Feliks shrugged, and frowned. “Why, are you not enjoying it?”

“Oh no, I am, very much so,” Toris hummed, kissing up Feliks’s neck. He kept his eyes open, sending a sultry look towards his laptop, watching Alfred swallow and his face turn pink. 

Feliks gasped softly, head tipping back. “Ah, so what’s the problem, then?”

“No problem,” Toris said, running his hands up Feliks’s back, feeling his spine arch under his palms. “I just thought, if you’re getting more out of this than I am, why don’t we make you the star of the show?”

“Oh, fuck,” Alfred moaned lowly, and Feliks made a small noise in his throat.

“Bullshit, you’re not enjoying this as much as I am,” he laughed breathily, struggling to keep his voice steady as Toris mouthed at a sensitive spot below his ear. “Alright, you want me to give a good show? I’ll give a good show.”

He rolled backwards off Toris’s lap, fiddling with his jeans. “Liet, face the laptop,” he ordered, yanking off his skinny jeans and underwear at the same time.

Toris shifted, kneeling so he was in front of the laptop, finding Alfred staring back up at him, and he suddenly felt flustered again. 

“So, what’s he up to?” Alfred asked, unable to see Feliks in his view of the room.

“No idea,” Toris huffed, bashfully brushing his hair out of his face.

“Oh hush, you’ll like it,” Feliks scoffed, kicking his clothes to the floor. 

Naked, he straddled Toris’s lap again, his face red but his mouth set in a confident smirk, as he reached down and undid the fly on Toris’s pants.

“If you wanna get the _best_ show,” he grinned, pulling Toris’s cock out. “You’ve gotta show the best view possible, right?”

Toris swallowed thickly and nodded, leaning back to reach for the nightstand.

“Jeez, you guys are spoiling me,” Alfred laughed. Toris peered over Feliks’s shoulder as he sat upright, finding Alfred with his eyes locked on the pair of them, an eager, excited look on his face.

Another little idea suddenly popped into his brain.

“You know, dear,” he mused with a bashful little grin. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that we only get to see you from the shoulders up, while you get to see everything?”

Alfred snickered. “Hint taken.”

He pushed back his chair and adjusted the laptop, until Toris had a clear view from his head to his lap, and of the hand Alfred had already casually slipped into his sweatpants.

Feliks glanced over his shoulder and snickered, before he turned back and settled in Toris’s lap. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are,” Toris said softly, kissing his cheek as he popped open the small bottle of lubricant he’d grabbed from the nightstand.

“I’m _so_ ready.”

Toris kissed him on the mouth with a hum, drizzling lube over his fingers and slipping them between Feliks’s butt cheeks. He probed gently around his ass for a moment, and when he felt relaxed enough, pushed two inside, thrilling in the shuddering moan Feliks let into his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Alfred mumbled.

Feliks say flushed and panting in his lap while Toris eased him open, murmuring sweet nothings against his lips and stroking his ribs with his free hand. He knew he was good to go once Feliks’s soft moans turned into whines, and he ground down into his lap with a frustrated growl.

“Liet, come _ooon,_ ” he whimpered. “Gimmie that big amazing dick already!”

“Only if you stop talking about it like that.”

Feliks huffed. “Fine, okay.”

Toris kissed him with a smile, tearing open a condom. “Thank you.”

He rolled the condom on and cupped his hands under Feliks’s thighs, gently lowering him onto his cock with a soft groan, giving Alfred a perfect view of Toris’s cock sliding into him. Feliks’s back arched as he bit his lip with a muffled noise, digging his nails into Toris’s shoulders as he took him to the base.

Alfred whistled lowly behind them. “Damn, dude, all that in one go?”

Feliks let out a shaky laugh, and tipped his head back with a wobbly grin. “Jealous?”

“Heh, kinda, yeah.”

“Don’t brag, Po,” Toris chastised, nipping his collar bone.

“Sorry.”

Toris rolled his hips, pulling a moan from them both, and hugged Feliks snugly to his chest.

He let Feliks set the rhythm, resting his head in the crook of his neck and watching the laptop over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and fluttering with pleasure. Alfred was still watching them like a hawk, lounged back in his computer chair with the waistband of his pants shoved down and his cock free. He seemed to have gotten some lotion from some place (Toris wasn’t going to judge if he had it right by his computer) and he was quickly stroking himself off. Face flushed and glasses sliding down his nose, he caught Toris’s eye and gave him an affectionate smile, tongue flicking out across his lower lip.

“God, you guys are gorgeous,” he moaned. 

Something warm swelled in Toris’s chest and he swallowed thickly, squeezing Feliks tighter and kissing his shoulder. Over 4,000 miles away, and Alfred could still hear and see them, still share in their physical pleasure, still be wonderful and affectionate and intimate, all through a computer screen. 

Though technologically illiterate at times, even Toris could admit it had made some _wonderful_ developments over the years.

“Mmf, Liet,” Feliks gasped, and Toris turned back to kiss him, reaching down to rub the head of his cock with his thumb, swallowing his moans. Feliks came in his hand, shuddering in his lap, and Toris stilled, pulling back to find Feliks grinning down at him with a flushed face, messy hair, and a lazy smile.

“Keep going,” he said softly, kissing the corner of Toris’s mouth and tucking his head back against his shoulder. Toris steadily started thrusting again, kissing Feliks’s neck as his eyes locked back onto Alfred, still watching them intently.

Alfred laughed at the intense look on his face, eyes fluttering shut. “Man, wish I was there right now. Mn, fuck, wanna… wanna kiss you…”

He trailed off with a moan, bucking into his hand and spilling against his fingers. He went lax in his chair with a heavy breath, a sleepy grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

Toris’s stomach felt hot and tight and he let out a small noise, consumed by the feeling of Feliks’s warm body pressed to his, by the sight of Alfred laying in a graceless, post-coital slump, hearing them both pant and mumble softly, those lovely little noises that made his heart swell with affection.

He muffled his moan against Feliks’s shoulder as he came, hips jerking until he was spent, going loose and lax as he slumped back against the headboard.

“…that was fun,” Feliks giggled after a quiet moment.

“Yeah it was,” Alfred chuckled from the laptop. “Hon?”

“I did enjoy it,” Toris sighed with a wide smile.

“Told you,” Feliks quipped, nuzzling his chest lazily.

They spent a few minutes cleaning up, Toris pulling his boxers back on along with an old t-shirt, letting Feliks steal one of his button-ups. When they came back, Alfred had moved to his own bed, grinning at them sideways from the screen and asking if they wanted to stay on for a bit longer.

They spent the afternoon sharing pillow-talk across 4,000 miles of distance, and only stopped when Toris’s laptop ran out of battery.


	3. Day 16 - Semi-Public Sex (AmeLiet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content/warnings: nsfw, closet sex, Soviet/Cold War era, implied violence
> 
> Notes: takes place in the mid-1980s, sometime around _perestroika_ and _glasnost_ , two policies often credited as major contributors to the downfall of the Soviet government.

“Matt said he can get us twenty minutes at least, half-an-hour if he’s lucky.”

“Tell your brother he’s a saint.”

Alfred laughed softly, clicking the closet door shut behind him. “He’ll probably just say he’s sorry he couldn’t get us more time.”

His smile looked sad under the dim light of the closet, long shadows shifting on his face as the bulb swung back and forth, still carrying the momentum from when Toris tugged on the string to switch it on. Hardly the ideal place for a romantic rendezvous, Toris thought, but they had very little choice in the matter. 

He wished they didn’t have to rush either, as Alfred stepped forward and wrapped him in his arms, nudging him back against a shelf full of cleaning supplies with a hungry kiss. He liked the kiss, he enjoyed the physical affection, but lord, he hated having to jump straight into it like this. He’d have loved to spend time on softer, more chaste kisses, intimate touches and gentle smiles that could be just that and didn’t _have_ to lead to sex if they didn’t want it to, and they could just be together and talk or cuddle or just fall asleep knowing there was more than enough time to try again later.

He thought all this with a sigh, staring vaguely up at the swinging light above them while Alfred tore open his shirt buttons. He wished he was looking at the ceiling of his bedroom ( _his_ bedroom, in _his_ house on _his_ land, not the tiny, drafty room he was forced to share with Eduard and Raivis) instead.

“Hon?” Alfred asked, lips against his neck. 

Toris blinked, realizing he hadn’t done anything since Alfred pushed him against the wall. “Yes?”

Alfred stood up straight, brow furrowed. “Do you not want to…?”

“I do, I do, I’m sorry,” Toris said quickly, leaning into his chest with a sigh, face pressed against Alfred’s shoulder. 

“Got a lot on your mind?” Alfred asked, petting his hair.

Toris snorted sardonically. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Anything you can talk about?”

“Not without spending too much time,” he sighed. “And not without risking punishment if anyone finds out about it. ‘Giving insider information to the enemy’ and all that.”

“Jeez, hon…”

Alfred kissed him again, hands slipping into his open shirt to stroke his waist. 

“I can tell you though,” Toris murmured against his lips. “That there’s a chance something good may happen soon.”

He felt Alfred smile. “Can you tell me anything else?”

Oh, he wanted to. Lord, he wanted to open his mouth and tell Alfred _everything_ , how badly the restructuring had turned out, how the papers no longer held their tongues so tightly, how Feliks was getting bolder and Eduard and Raivis were singing folk songs around the house with less repercussions, how even _Ivan_ of all people was starting to realize his happy family was a joke, how even _he_ was sick of the lies and the paranoia day in and day out.

He could feel it in his bones, in his soil, in his people, and Toris knew this would all come crumbling down under its own weight. 

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he said out loud. “I’m sorry.”

Alfred sighed, puffing air against his cheek, but he was still smiling. “Well, don’t worry about it right now. Long as I know you’re making it through this, I’ll be okay.”

“It’s not easy,” Toris huffed, running his fingers up Alfred’s back, under his jacket. “But, if nothing else, I’m surviving.”

“Hm,” Alfred mused, hands traveling down to Toris’s belt. “Lemme spoil rotten you today, alright? You’ve earned it.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Alfred said, getting to his knees and smiling up at him. “Besides, this makes it easier to avoid a mess, y’know?”

He winked, and Toris’s face went red. “If you’re sure.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” Alfred hummed, kissing Toris’s hip bone and unbuttoning his fly. His thumbs rubbed little circles against the insides of Toris’s thighs through his slacks. 

Toris threaded a hand gently into Alfred’s hair, rubbing at his scalp as he pulled down the waistband of his underwear. He covered his mouth with his other hand preemptively, just in case, and sighed against his palm as Alfred wrapped a hand around his cock and slid his mouth down over it.

It was too quick; it always was when they got together like this. Alfred didn’t have time to touch or tease or excite Toris into full arousal, not nearly enough time to indulge in the copious amounts of foreplay they both enjoyed so much. Just straight to deep-throating, so fast it was a little overstimulating. 

Not that Toris could blame him, he thought, taking his hand away to glance nervously at his watch before clapping it back over his mouth. The longer they stayed, the more time they had to get caught. Matthew could only drag out his one-on-one meeting with Ivan for so long, and Toris didn’t want to consider the consequences of getting found afterward.

Though, with how disillusioned Ivan had become lately, maybe he wouldn’t even care at this point.

Better not to risk it, though. 

He muffled his moan with his hand when he came, too quick to really be satisfying. It felt shallow, a little frustrating, but it was something at least. Something to help him get through until he could spend hours at a time rolling lazily on the sheets with Alfred if he so desired.

Alfred kissed his hip again and he glanced down with a sad smile, pulling him upright to kiss him on the lips. 

“We’ve got five more minutes,” he mumbled, reaching for Alfred’s belt. “Maybe I can–”

There was a sharp knock on the door and they both froze, Toris’s chest seizing with panic.

“Liet!” a voice hissed from outside. “They’re wrapping up, you need to get a move on!”

Footsteps rapidly walked away from the closet door, and Toris’s shoulders slumped with a relieved sigh. His hands darted to his open fly, not wanting to waste any more time.

“Feliks knows?” Alfred asked, eyebrows raised. 

“We’ve been together a long time,” Toris said, zipping up his trousers and stepping over to the door. “It’s practically a tradition that we help each other resist. Even in small ways, like this.”

“Friends and allies in rebellion,” Alfred mused, smiling. “I like it.”

Toris fumbled with his shirt buttons, leaning up to kiss Alfred on the quickly mouth. “It makes it more bearable, certainly.”

“Can we do this again soon, do you think?”

Toris paused, hand hovering by the doorknob. 

_Maybe we won’t have to. Maybe you can come to my home and kiss me as much as you want and as long as the bedroom curtains are closed we won’t have to worry about hiding anything from anyone._

“We’ll see,” he said, turning the knob and slipping out into the empty hall.


	4. Day 24 - Shy (EstLat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content/warnings: lingerie, no smut but still very suggestive, sort-of underage (as in Raivis is several centuries old and mature enough to consent but still looks young physically so it might be squicky), mentioned drinking
> 
> Also apologies that this one is so short, I may draw something later to go with it

“You’d better not laugh!”

Eduard smiled patiently, resting his chin on his hand. “I won’t.”

“I mean it! Don’t you dare laugh at me!”

“In all the centuries we’ve known each other, have I ever once laughed at you?”

“Yes! Loads of times!”

“I mean when you were sober,” Eduard added with a huff, sitting upright on the edge of the bed. “And you weren’t doing anything stupid.”

Raivis was quiet for a moment. “Okay, fine,” he mumbled finally.

The bathroom door cracked open, Raivis slowly peeking his head out. He was bright pink, eyes down and avoiding Eduard, focused on the carpet as he inched his way out from the bathroom.

Eduard’s smile slipped, his eyebrows raising slightly as more of Raivis’s body came into view. The negligee hung loosely over his skinny chest, one strap sliding down his shoulder, the deep red sheer fabric standing out drastically against his pale skin. It came down to his thighs, just barely covering the pair of dark red matching panties he was wearing. At this distance, Eduard couldn’t tell if they were silk or satin, and found himself longing to touch and find out. 

“I knew this was a stupid idea…”

Eduard’s eyes shot back up to Raivis’s face. He was still staring stubbornly at the floor, shoulders hunched and hands fidgeting helplessly at his sides. “God, I feel ridiculous…”

“You don’t look ridiculous,” Eduard said.

Raivis finally looked up at him, face red all the way up to his ears and down to his chest. “Then what’s with that face you’re making?”

“I think you could call it ‘love-struck’.”

Raivis gaped at him for a second, then buried his flushed face in his hands. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not!” Eduard insisted. He smiled softly, standing up and making his way to the bathroom door. “I mean it, Raivis, you don’t look ridiculous.”

Raivis peered up at him dubiously. “You really think so, huh?”

“Of course I do.” Eduard took his hand and gently guided it away from his face, stroking his knuckles. “I think you look gorgeous like this.”

Raivis’s face was almost as red as the negligee by now, but he still smiled and let out a flustered laugh. “Well, if you like it that much…”

Eduard kissed his knuckles. “Take it off if you really don’t like it,” he said. “I won’t stop you.”

“I’m not saying I _don’t_ like it,” Raivis mumbled. He took a step closer to Eduard, weaving their fingers together. “I’m just, well, really glad you don’t think it’s stupid.”

Eduard gently placed his other hand at Raivis’s waist, stroking his hip through the sheer fabric. “Come now, this is _hardly_ the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Raivis snorted, looking up with a smirk. “You’re not exactly wooing me right now.”

“Hm,” Eduard mused, dipping his head to kiss Raivis on the mouth. His thumb slipped under the hem of the negligee, running across the waistline of the panties.

Definitely silk.

“Let me make up for that, then?” he asked, tilting his head towards the bed.

Raivis bit his lip excitedly and nodded.


End file.
